Rod (20 page)

“Hello?” I say groggily.

“Hey, thought we were going to see Lester
Samson this morning,” Trish says.

Through a yawn I say, “We are.
 
Let me get showered and dressed.
 
I’ll call you when I’m ready to roll.”

“Alright.
 
Want me to pick you up a bagel or something?”
 
she
asks sweetly.

“Nah, I’ll grab something here before I
head out.”

“Okie dokie.
 
I’ll see you soon.”

“Sounds good,” I tell her as I tempt
myself into nearly going back to bed.

We hang up the call and I spring into
action.
 
I sift through my dresser
drawers and find a clean pair of jeans, a reasonably dressy shirt and some
boxers.
 
I make my way to the shower and
turn the hot water on.
 
Once steam
emanates from the shower, I slip out of my boxers and into the rain
locker.
 

Letting the water stream onto my body, I
think back to last night and how Trish gave me head.
 
The thought of her going down on me
immediately sends blood rushing to my dick and I’m hard all over again.
 

I look downward and say quietly, “I don’t
have time for this.
 
She’s waiting.”

I lather up with a bar of soap and rinse
myself off all the while thinking thoughts of my grandmother in hopes that it
will
tame
the savage beast.
 
I grow limp as I hop out of the shower and
onto the bath mat.
 
I grab a towel,
quickly run it over my hair and then dry off.
 

Once I dress myself, I throw my socks and
shoes on and grab a knife.
 
I stuff it
into the front pocket of my jeans and head outside.
 
I see a pink blur heading this way and
immediately recognize my girl on her cute motorcycle.
 

With a roar, she pulls up next to my bike
and hops off.

“Hey there, you,” she says with her cute
bouncy hair.

“You did something different with your
hair,” I tell her.

“You noticed,” she says as her face lights
up.

“Of course,” I say.

“I wanted to do something different with
it since I already met this guy.
 
I don’t
want him recognizing me when we get there.”

“Makes sense,” I tell her.

“Are we taking your bike or both of ours?”
she asks.

“Even though I love the way your boobs
feel against my back, I thought we could take both bikes.”

“Sounds good,” she says with a grin.

“Before we go, did you text your dad the
address to this place?” I question her.

“Yeah, I sure did,” she says.

“Alright, let’s go.
 
You can follow me, I know the area well.”

“You got it,” she says.
 
She hops back onto her bike and I peel
out.
 
From a glance in my side mirror, I can
see her pink bike following closely behind me.

Twenty minutes pass and we’re in
Hayleysville
right by Lester’s place.
 
It’s a run-down shanty of a home that looks
like it has seen better days.
 
I remember
the place from a long time ago when it was still in its prime.
 

I park my motorcycle in front and Trish
parks hers next to it.
 
We hop off of our
bikes and walk over to the door.

“I’ll do the talking if that’s alright
with you,” I plead.
 

“Sure, since you already know this guy.”

I knock on the door and hear a bit of a
ruckus behind it.
 
An older man emerges
from the door and grins.

“Hey, Lester,” I say.
 
“Not sure if you remember me, but I’m Seth
Vinton’s son.
 
This is my friend Trish.”

He looks her over and smiles widely.
 
He’s old and frail and looks like he wouldn’t
hurt a fly.
 
Trish leans into my ear and
says, “I feel kind of stupid for suggesting this now.”

I whisper back, “
It’s
okay, honey.
 
You’re the boss.
 
We can still talk to him.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” she says.

“Come on in, you two,” Lester tells us as
he moves from the doorway and to the living room.

“Lester, we just had a few questions for
you.
 
It won’t take up too much of your
time,” I say.

On the off-chance that we’re wrong, I keep
my wits about me as I scan the whole place for anything that appears off.

The house is a complete wreck with old
newspapers gathering dust and it smells of beer and rotten food.
 
I can sense that Trish is uncomfortable and
would probably rather be home.
 
I gather
that I should make it quick with the questions before she passes out from the
gross smell emanating from the house.

“We’re looking into the disappearance of a
twelve-year-old girl named Sasha Fitzgerald,” I say matter-of-factly.

“I can’t say that I know who that is,”
Lester says.

He turns to Trish and says, “You look
familiar to me young lady, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

She squirms a little and I can tell she’s
wondering if the different hairstyle and makeup are giving her away.

“So you haven’t seen this little girl?” I
ask as I show him a picture that I have on my cell phone of Sasha.

“Want something to drink?” Lester asks,
disappearing into the kitchen.
 

Trish and I look at each other completely
baffled.
 

“He just left the room, this is all so
weird,” she whispers to me.

I agree, but don’t want to be rude.

“It is weird, but we don’t have to be here
long, just a few more minutes,” I say.

Lester appears in the doorway and says, “I
asked if either of you want something to drink?”

He looks annoyed.

“No, we’re good,” I tell him.
 

Trish stands up as if she wants to leave,
but turns to me to egg me on.

“So, you don’t know anything about Sasha
Fitzgerald
comin
’ up missing?” I press him.

Angrily, he turns to us and says, “Coming
here with her was a big mistake.”

Not deciphering his meaning, I ask, “What
do you mean?”

“Bringing her here like that,” he says
visibly upset and mean.

“Huh?” I ask for clarity.

“You fucking nosy kids, you just can’t
leave well enough alone,” he snipes at us.

Trish is already close to the doorway to
leave and I stand.
 
I don’t know what he
is talking about, but it’s making no sense.
 
Lester picks up his cane and points it at me threateningly and says,
“Your father would be so pissed off if he knew you were here.”

 
“And why is that?” I ask.

“Digging up dirt,” he reminds us.

He turns to Trish and says, “And I know
who you are.
 
You’re that girl from the
bar the other night, fucking bitch.”

I put myself between Lester and Trish as
he takes a swing at us with his cane.
 

Chapter Twelve

Rodney Vinton

Lester misses us with his cane and I look
around for our escape route.
 
As I look
to the door, I see Trish coming closer.
 
She kicks his kneecaps and follows it up with a right hook to the old
man’s nose.
 
Impressed, I feel proud in
this moment.
 

Lester leans toward a book case to
stabilize himself as blood starts to rush from his nose.
 
He staggers and then falls forward to his
knees.

“You’ve just declared war, bitch!” he
shouts through wiping the blood away from his nose.

“War was already declared when you messed
with my family,” she tells him.

He continues to wipe the blood away as
he’s momentarily disabled.
 
Trish walks
over to him as he tries to get himself upright and kicks his kneecap, making
him fall back to the floor.
 

She walks over to his phone cord and yanks
it from the wall.
 
She casts it to the
side and I see her for the woman that she is; a beautiful force to be reckoned
with.
 

I walk to Lester’s side as he lays there
in his own defeat and search his pockets for a cell phone.
 
I briefly consider smashing it, but I don’t
because we could use it to our advantage.
 
I grasp his phone in my hands and navigate to the settings.
 
Once there, I thumb my way to set a lock code
on his phone.
 
I set the number to 8540
and cast it to the side of his still body.
 

Lester’s eyes follow me, but he’s still
incapacitated.
 

“We’re not through with you,” I tell him
as we walk outside the door and slam it shut behind us.

“What did you do to his phone?” she asks
as she looks toward his bike.

“I set a lock code on it so he can’t call
any of his friends to come and help him,” I tell her.

“I’d have just smashed it to bits,” she
says.

 
“Yeah, but that takes too much effort and
we’ve wasted plenty on that loser.”

“Makes sense,” she tells me in response.

“He can still get away on his bike,” I
say, looking in the same direction as she.

“Want me to take off some of the parts and
leave them next to it?”

She looks devious, rubbing her hands
together as her plan unfolds.
 
I watch as
she kneels down in front of Lester’s motorcycle and systematically begins
removing parts.
 
She sets them next to
the bike and looks up at me with a smile.

She scatters the parts, but ensures that
they are completely intact and unharmed.
 
She stands and walks over to me with a look that’s asking for approval.

“Fantastic job,” I tell her.

She lights up.
 

“Alright, back down to business,” she
says.

“If Lester had any involvement in your
sister’s kidnapping, then from what I can tell, they had to have moved her,
‘cause
she’s not here.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,
too,” she tells me.

“So, we have to figure out what happened,
but this is a good lead.
 
You know what,
I’m going back in for a minute to search the place just to be sure.”

“Okay, I’ll stand guard out here,” she
says.

She eyes the area, scanning it for any
signs of life.
 

I swing the door to Lester’s place back
open and walk inside like I own it.
 
I
see him sitting up against the wall clutching a bloody handkerchief.
 

“Did you come back for more?” he asks.

“No, I just want to make sure that you’re
not hiding Sasha Fitzgerald in this rotten hole of a house,” I tell him.

He looks down so his face doesn’t reveal
anything to me.
 
I walk through the
living room and to the kitchen, looking for places that a twelve-year-old could
be hidden.

I notice a locked door on the side of the
kitchen and realize that this place might have a basement.
 
It’s pad-locked and a hard look around the
kitchen tells me that the key to the lock is nowhere in sight.
 
I walk back over to Lester and nudge him with
my foot.

“What do you want?” he snipes with a dirty
look on his face.

“The key to the basement, old man, where
is it?” I push.

“Fuck you,” he says with a snarl.

“Don’t make me ask again,” I threaten with
another nudge of my foot.
 
“I’ll make
what she did to you look like a church picnic.”

“Here,” he says after digging in his
pocket.
 
He throws the keys to the floor
away from him.

I walk over, scoop them up and head back
toward the kitchen.
 
I look back to see
him messing with his phone.
 
He is
desperately trying to figure out the code, but by the look on his face, I can
tell that he’s having no luck.
 

I try each key on the ring in the padlock
until I find the gold one that fits in perfectly.
 
I turn the key and unlock the lock.
 
I remove it from the hasp it’s attached to
and open the door to reveal cobweb-covered stairs leading downward.